The Disappointment of Reality, or As God Laughs
by Katia Strelnikov
Summary: Draco-centric, during the Deathly Hallows. Haven't you ever wanted to know how that one, terrible year played out? How Draco's character finally reached redemption? We certainly missed a lot while Ol' J.K. Rowling had the Golden trio hunting Horcruxes. This is real life. No unneeded pairings. Gratuitous violence, maybe drugs/alcohol. Fine reading, friends. Eventually M-rated.


It seems, after all is said and done, there is only one person left to pick up the pieces. Pieces of former glory, former life, and future expectations are jumbled. Man makes plans and whatever god there is laughs at them. Father is imprisoned. The master of the Great Malfoy name is now a begging man, dirty on the floor, occupied by no one. Mother has been too ashamed to leave the Manor, so I have been obligated to send messages, traveling to and from Azkaban for the past couple of months.

I have seen a great man break. If you could call my father great, that is. It wasn't gradual, as I had expected it to be. One afternoon I arrived to find a man I could not recognize, mumbling and apologizing to thin air. It has crossed my mind he could have been apologizing to me, but it is not relevant. I don't care to hear my father's guilt-laced words. He's reached a need for atonement of supposed sins, I can deliver no such thing. It can be said, especially by his enemies, that it has been a long time coming, too. I stopped visiting him after that. There was nothing to be said.

He would be out soon enough, I knew. The Dark Lord wouldn't let a loyal follower rot for the eternity of their life, only until it was in his power to relieve their pain. Dolohov, among others, were also imprisoned after the fiasco in the department of mysteries. Control of the Ministry was no big problem. Azkaban, however, posed more of a problem. But once control was established, it was all Draco had to imagine the possibilities of havoc to be wreaked.

* * *

He was mad at his father. The notion evoked in Draco both happiness and anger. Power was nature to him, after all. As soon as his absence had been noted, Draco was officially the master of the Malfoys. The new man of the house, so to speak. Voldemort wasted no time welcoming Draco to the ranks of the Death Eaters. He had no say in the matter. He knew he could revere and respect the man without being marked. He felt branded, somehow cheap, not as thankful as the Dark Lord expected him to be. It was a good thing he was an artful liar, as years of his life seemed to prepare him for that instance.

When Lucius Malfoy escaped Azkaban he didn't reclaim his place in the family. He put forth an effort, but behind every one of his words Draco could only see the man as a wasted, depressed Dementor's whore. He was a shadow, rightfully, too. He tended to speak less, tended to easily anger, more so than Draco was accustomed to. His mother was on the brunt of most violence, as Draco tended to fire curses back at the man. He was no longer a frightened boy, in looks or in mind. His father learned that quickly. But it was of no consequence to Lucius, and without communicating as they used to, Draco's seventh year of schooling rolled around quite on schedule.

"Dear, don't forget to write us about the new changes," Nacissa glided to her son, kissing his forehead in a gesture of love and farewells. "Your father and I are ever-so disappointed we must miss the new Hogwarts."Draco looked to where his father was, lounging in a chair, donning reading glasses and a large book, looking entirely unimpressed.

"Yes," Lucius spoke, looking towards his heir, "I believe Severus will be a fitting headmaster for that abomination of a school." He took his glasses off, setting them and the book on a green marble table. "I'd love to see the mudbloods this year, Draco." Draco gave a short, amused snort in reply and bid them goodbye. He was anything but amused.

Draco didn't have to take the train to school this year, thanks to Albus's death. He apparated to Hogsmead and stopped into Hogshead. He took a booth near the front of the pub, facing the door, ready if he needed his wand. A bar hand came over and took his order, recognizing him for his school year, midnight excursions of the past years.

"Firewhiskey, and leave the bottle," Draco instructed. The man left and reappeared with the bottle. Draco fished money from his coat and dismissed the man. As he poured the liquid into a glass, he looked at his left arm through his thick sleeve. Regrets, all regrets, and nothing matters. Besides, maybe, the fire that flowed readily down his throat.

There was no notion of time for Draco to judge. Eventually, the pub door opened and Blaise strode inside, spotting Draco immediately. Blaise's looming figure was nearly as big as the door he walked through. He looked at the bottle of alcohol, then Draco, and then the bar hand.

"You!" Blaise was staring at the bar hand, who looked up and met Blaise's eyes. "Bring me a glass."

"Right away." The man brought a glass, pouring the bottle from the table into the new container.

"You're dismissed." Blaise informed the man, turning his attention to Draco. "Alecto and Amycus gave quite a show on the Hogwarts Express, Draco, it's a shame you've missed it."

Draco huffed. No doubt they made quite a show of themselves, as they had plenty of practice being dreadfully frightening. "I imagine there was quite a bit of screaming and blood."

"They'll be lucky if they can get the stains out before Christmas," Blaise laughed at his own joke. "It was informative. They'll be introduced to the whole of the school at the feast."

"Have they decided if the punishments will be public or in private, yet?" Blaise thought for a moment, then leaned in conspiratorially.

"I would bet that it depends on who the punishment is for." Draco grinned at that, barking out full laughter when Blaise winked suggestively at him. The laughter subsided soon enough, and Draco poured a fair amount of Firewhiskey into his and his companion's empty glasses.

"I suppose we should get going to the feast. I wouldn't want to miss the Carrow's introduction." They shared a look, downed their drinks, and left the pub in a matter of seconds. They both knew this final year of Hogwarts would be a lovely year for the Death Eaters and Purebloods, like themselves. All they could do now was wait, and walk. Companionable silence settled over them as their walk began, lasting until they sat down for the sorting ceremony where Severus Snape sat in the Head chair, looking particularly bored.


End file.
